Cat’s Reckless Stunt

In the theater of Gotham Manor district, Schiller took a glass of champagne from a server’s tray and clinked it with Mrs. Leto’s. He sighed. "There aren’t many balls left that are both lively and dignified like this. The ones in the city are far too noisy. Those sound systems give me a headache."

Mrs. Leto brushed the white hair at her temple. "That was how things were in our day. Young ladies and young men were usually quite shy. No one would have dared hold hands at a ball like this. But you know how wild young people are these days. Once, I went to the Golden Cup mansion downtown, and I was absolutely stunned. Calling what they wore clothes would be generous. Curtains were more covering…"

Schiller laughed. "Things are developing too quickly these days, after all. But it’s a good thing. The economy seems to have improved quite a bit lately."

Mrs. Leto nodded in agreement. "That’s true. The rent on my two apartments on Fourth Avenue has risen by more than half. I have no idea how those gangsters are making so much money. I’m even discussing buying another apartment with that bull at the end of Elizabeth Street…"

"Madam, you are a wise woman." A deep voice came from beside them. A man with a little mustache approached, lightly tapping his wineglass against Schiller’s and Mrs. Leto’s. "Hello. Here is my business card."

Schiller took it and looked it over. "Manager of Golden Cup Company? You’re a real estate agent for the Falcone family?"

"That’s right. I work for the Godfather, but of course, Golden Cup Company is also a legitimate company independent of the Falcone family. We conduct real estate business all along the East Coast."

"As you know, we’ve recently begun some cooperation with Chicago. Land prices there are about to surge as well. I came to this gathering specifically to introduce properties in various eastern cities to wealthy gentlemen and ladies such as yourselves."

Mrs. Leto was quite interested. "I heard that Chicago’s scenery is better than Gotham’s. What do you think about me buying a villa there?"

"You must be Mrs. Leto. You’ve come to exactly the right person. Chicago is indeed nice, but for a retirement villa, I would recommend Imperial City more. The scenery there is truly beautiful, unique across the entire East Coast. And as you know, it is much safer than either Gotham or Chicago."

"Though I do like Imperial City’s tropical atmosphere, there are too many casinos and too many tourists from out of town. I feel like I wouldn’t get any peace living there." Mrs. Leto frowned.

"Then I have to recommend Miami. It truly is an excellent city. Compared to Imperial City’s orderliness, it possesses a more untamed beauty. Of course, its gangs are nothing compared to Gotham’s. With your husband’s capabilities, buying an estate there would be quite nice."

Mrs. Leto fanned herself. "I was just planning to discuss it with him. Although our family has lived in Gotham for generations, the weather here is simply unbearable. If we could spend a month or two vacationing there, that would be nice. After all, we’re both getting old. Gotham’s air is terrible for longevity…"

Schiller said, "I heard the mayor intends to work with Wayne Enterprises to develop an urban air purification system and promote it nationwide. It would be capable of regulating the climate in local areas, though that may take some time."

The Golden Cup manager said, "That would be wonderful. I’ve never understood it myself. Gotham’s geographical location is clearly excellent, so why does it have so many rainy days? If it had three or four sunny months a year, its beaches would drive tourists from all over the East Coast crazy."

The manager was right. Gotham’s beaches were of exceptionally high quality because they had undergone almost no development. After all, no one with a death wish would come here on vacation. Aside from occasional use by locals, they could be called the best-preserved urban beaches in the entire East Coast.

The server came around again with a tray. They took some biscuits, drinking and eating as they discussed Gotham’s future development. During a lull in the conversation, Schiller caught sight of a black figure flashing outside the theater doors. It seemed someone was watching him.

The theater was brightly lit because of the ball, but the estate district was pitch-black. This old-fashioned estate community was small and had few residents. Whenever a ball was held, nearly everyone attended, naturally leaving their homes empty.

Unlike Bruce, who was busy with his internship, Catwoman had not been having a very good time lately.

She was a thief, and theft remained her main source of income. Naturally, she was the more high-end kind of thief, not a street pickpocket. Catwoman usually stole expensive jewelry from jewelry stores, or stamp albums and paintings from collectors.

But because of Gotham’s reforms, the city’s nights had begun growing livelier and livelier. Jewelry stores, gold and silver accessory shops, and watch repair stores on the main streets had all started staying open at night, with clerks and guards working three shifts.

Catwoman relied on infiltration and skill to steal. She was not like those brawling heroes who thought that if they killed everyone, no one would discover their infiltration. Her petite build and limited strength did not support that approach either.

The round-the-clock clerks and guards gave her a terrible headache. Even if she found a way to lure away one or two of them, the noisy streets and crowded alleys made her thefts extremely easy to spot.

Logically speaking, with Catwoman’s abilities, she would not starve even if she did something else. But she had been raised as a thief from childhood. She neither knew how nor wanted to do anything else.

What was she supposed to do if she could not steal? She could only force herself to keep trying. Though she occasionally succeeded, she was discovered far too easily and made many enemies.

As the saying went, walk the night roads long enough and eventually you would meet a ghost. One day, Catwoman’s theft failed once again.

This time, however, she had provoked someone she should not have. The place she had targeted was called the Golden Cup Jewelry Store, one of Falcone’s businesses.

The Falcone family was not like those insignificant small fry. The store’s guards had received professional training, there were plenty of them, and the entire shop had no blind spots. Catwoman was discovered the moment she made her move.

Unlike the other jewelry stores, Falcone’s people had both the nerve and the ability to hunt down anyone in Gotham. The Godfather’s dignity could not be tarnished. Catwoman had not only nearly been caught, but had been directly put on a wanted list.

The Twelve Families all sent people after her. That day, Catwoman was once again chased around frantically. Left with no choice, she began running toward the edge of the city.

The Assassin behind her had clearly received professional training and stayed close on her heels. Catwoman had no choice but to steal a car and drive out of the East End toward the West End. Thanks to Gotham’s traffic control, there were no traffic jams and no Car Accidents. She made it smoothly to the vicinity of the estate district.

Once she entered the estate district, Catwoman felt a little uneasy. The English-style manors looked especially gloomy and terrifying under the night sky. That was why, despite the number of wealthy people living there, she rarely came to this area.

But she had no choice. Her enemies were right on her tail. Catwoman moved cautiously through the estate district. The deeper she went, the less secure she felt, because for some reason, it seemed as if everyone here had vanished.

Catwoman mustered her courage and kept running. Then she discovered that one of the manors had a window glowing with faint light.

Catwoman was nearly scared bristling by the place’s horrifying atmosphere, so she did not think too much and headed straight for the light.

Once inside, she found signs that someone lived there, which eased her mind somewhat.

Feeling that she had probably shaken her pursuers, Catwoman grew bolder. She crept to the base of the building’s wall, extended her grappling line to catch the rooftop, and with several light leaps, arrived at the illuminated windowsill.

She pressed herself against the wall and peeked inside. There was no one there. It seemed the owner had forgotten to turn off the light before leaving.

Beside the balcony stood a solid wood desk covered with a chaotic pile of documents, along with many thick books that gave Catwoman a headache after only one glance. The manor’s owner appeared to be a scholar.

But something soon caught Catwoman’s attention. It was a bottle sitting in the corner of the desk.

The bottle was not large, and it appeared to contain some black, dirty water. But the material of the bottle itself made Catwoman’s heart race at once.

It was diamond! The entire thing!

The whole bottle was made of diamond!!!

Catwoman knew she could not possibly be mistaken. She had been a thief for so many years and had seen countless pieces of jewelry.

The brilliant radiance beneath the light nearly dazzled her eyes, captivating her in an instant.

Even though she had seen all kinds of beautiful jewelry, she had never seen such a pure diamond.

Then she began gritting her teeth. What was this manor owner thinking?? Why hollow out such a beautiful diamond and turn it into a bottle?? How wonderful would it have been if it were solid???

But regardless, Catwoman’s heart as a jewel thief was already stirring restlessly.

The window was locked, and it seemed to use a type of lock that Catwoman neither understood nor could pick. But this jewel thief, who had dominated Gotham for many years, was no pushover.

Seeing that she could not open the window, she climbed directly down along the balcony and tried every window. Then she discovered that the manor’s owner was absurdly cautious. Every window had been locked with those strange locks, not even excluding the small attic windows.

But persistence paid off. Old English manors had a special structure. In medieval English estates, a hidden door was left at the toilet drain so servants could clean out accumulated filth.

Although the manor built here no longer had any use for that function, since it used a modern drainage system, perhaps out of the architect’s sentimentality, this medieval waste passage had still been preserved.

Catwoman’s small frame was just enough for her to crawl through the hidden door and into the washroom. She thought, Good thing no one has ever used this passage. Otherwise, not even death would make me crawl through it.

Catwoman possessed superb acrobatic skills and was extremely nimble. When she emerged from the washroom, she landed without making a sound. Then something even more infuriating happened: the washroom door was locked too!

Just how afraid was this person of being robbed!

Fortunately, perhaps the manor’s owner also found those strange locks too troublesome, worrying that they might not open when urgently needed. The washroom door had an ordinary iron lock.

Catwoman could pick that kind of lock. She dealt with it in a few quick moves, then crept over to the desk.

Delighted, she picked up the diamond bottle and examined it carefully beneath the light. Now she was certain. It had to be diamond.

What confused her, however, was that she had never seen such a pure diamond. Its color and clarity were both nearly flawless, making it appear almost perfect.

What puzzled Catwoman even more was that such a beautiful bottle contained a puddle of black dirty water. No, calling it dirty water was perhaps not quite right. It looked more like a sticky mass of black Slime.

Catwoman did not know whether it was an illusion, but she felt the Slime move. Yet her eyes had already been dazzled by the diamond bottle, and she desperately wanted to put such a beautiful diamond into her collection cabinet immediately.

So she did not care what was inside the bottle and simply stuffed it into the small pouch at her waist.

Since the windows and doors were all locked shut, Catwoman worried that she would be unable to escape if the manor owner returned. Besides, obtaining such a beautiful diamond tonight was already enough.

Catwoman left along the route she had entered through. Before leaving, she even used a special method to hang the lock back outside the washroom door and restore it to its locked state.

Back home, Catwoman took out the bottle and looked it over from every angle. The more she looked, the more she liked it. But the more she looked, the more the mass of black sludge inside offended her eyes. What kind of lunatic would use such a beautiful bottle to hold a sticky mass of black Slime?

Catwoman wanted to pour out what was inside, but the bottle’s seal was highly unusual. Its stopper was not an ordinary cork. It had a series of complicated clasps and seemed to include a miniature lock.

Catwoman had never seen technology like this and could not make sense of it. But she knew one thing: diamond was the hardest gem in the world, so she could use force to destroy the stopper without damaging the beautiful bottle.

So she brought over a Crowbar, a file, and pliers, then hammered and smashed at the mechanism. After working for a long time, aside from one clasp becoming slightly loose, the entire stopper remained firmly in place.

Catwoman panted in exhaustion. In a fit of anger, she stopped caring, tossed the bottle onto the bedside table, and went to sleep. She planned to wait until the heat died down, then go out and find a professional to help pry it open.